The sounds of nature penetrate your ears as you lie on the forest floor, eyes closed to the world around you. You feel the ground beneath you, pressing lightly against your back and wings, which are splayed around you, making you resemble something you remember a Beloved child showing you once. A snow angel, she'd called it. You can't help but laugh a little to yourself at the memory.
It hasn't been that long since that snake woman robbed you of your virginity– both of them, actually. You hadn't been aware that lamia are possessed of not one, but two penises, each one longer than your forearm. Well, not until the second one pressed against the ring of your anus and beyond, that is.
You can still feel her, sometimes, deep inside you. You aren't certain whether it's a phantom sensation or if her seed yet lingers, and you don't know which you'd prefer.
Tired of lingering on the past, you open your eyes stare straight at the sky. Or rather, where the sky would be. Trees tower above you, their canopies blocking all but the most tenacious beams of sunlight. You lie in a small clearing, just big enough for you to spread your wings as you are.
The sound of gently running water can be heard from your right. You're fairly certain you remember it leading to a Beloved settlement some ways away from the Great Mountain Dungeon. It's more of an outpost than a settlement, really, a place for intrepid mortals to rest their heads and prepare for the delve ahead of them.
You've been there once before, actually, with the woman who you accompanied for the excursion that led to your damnation. Lita is her name, Junior Priestess of Justicia. She lacked the power to call you on her own, but one of the more capable Priestesses bid you accompany her on this journey. You gathered that she is possessed of noble blood, but never saw fit to ask her. A good angel never pries.
She and her fellows abandoned you when they got in over their heads. You warned them that they would be unwise to follow that tunnel, regardless of what that idiot thief's map said. They fled when the lamia dropped on you from above.
You could make your way back to that place. Even if Lita or her idiot companions are there, they never saw your Fall. There were no other angels around either, and even if there were only a greater angel should be able to see you for what you are right away. There's plenty of opportunity for one of the Fallen to tempt the unwary into sin…
Alternatively, you know that to your left lies one of the gaping maws in the earth that leads to the dungeon proper. You are technically a monstergirl now, and your newfound kin are just as susceptible to your wiles as the Beloved. Of course, they are also far more likely to attempt a repeat of what led you to Fall, but one must take risks from time to time. It's not like you've never been raped before.
The settlement is the better option, you think. Might as well strike while the iron is hot, before one of the Beloved gets the chance to figure out what you are. Besides, you're not exactly eager to run up against another monstergirl just yet. Later, when you've got your wings on right… well, you'll deal with it when the time comes.
With a soft sigh you push yourself up with your wings. With quick flick of movement, you free them from the bits of twigs and dirt that your impromptu session of self-reflection inflicted upon them. You can't really fly in the forest, much to your chagrin, so you're going to have to walk, like a dirty mortal.
It takes maybe an hour's walk to reach the settlement, following the river as you go. As you get closer a road merges alongside the river, giving your feet a mild reprieve from the hell that is unworked ground. Goddess, you wish you could use your wings here, or that angel footwear was designed for comfort instead of appearance. Sandals are not adventuring wear.
Your cursing of the cobblers of Heaven is cut short when the trees around you finally give way to open land, the light of day hitting your unprepared eyes like a hammer. Blinking away the sudden pain and light, you gaze out at your destination.
Wooden palisades surround a set of perhaps a few dozen buildings, broken only by the gates that open into either side of the clearing that houses the place. The river flows just outside of the walls and into another part of the woods. A glance at the prominent writing that decorates the gate facing you reminds you that this little backwater is called Latchky. A dumb name, probably made up on the fly by an unprepared settler, but who are you to judge?
Now you are left with a choice. Do you simply… walk up and request entry? It'll probably work, though you may have to bluff you way through a few questions if there's a particularly dutiful guard at the gate. You could also try sneaking in by rapidly flying over one of the less-watched parts of the palisade, but if you're caught you might be in a spot of trouble.
You opt for the stealthy approach. You do somewhat remember the layout of Latchky, and if you remember right there was a spot of the palisade that didn't see as much patrol, for whatever reason. You never really thought to ask before, and you're not about to look a gift centaur in the mouth.
You sink back into the tree wall surrounding the clearing and make your way around. There's no reason to make this easy on the guards by going through the clearing, after all. A few minutes worth of effort gets you into position and you race across the clearing to your chosen point of entry.
Fortune (for it certainly isn't providence) is on your side, as no alarm is sounded at the figure rushing the wall. Taking a moment to steel yourself, you kneel down, spread your wings, and prepare for takeoff.
It's child play, really. You've done this same sort of thing hundreds of times, though not into any Beloved territory. Goblins make similar walls as these, and you've helped to liberate more than your share of breeding slaves from goblin breeding pits.
With angelic grace you rocket up and over the palisade, just barely brushing over the tip of the tallest wooden spike that makes up the wall. You dive down just as quickly and land with nary a peep. With a satisfied smile, you take a moment to preen at the maneuver. It's always nice when decades of training pay off like that.
Your preening finished, you take a moment to get your bearings. You stand in an alley– or what passes for one in this little outpost, at any rate, being mostly a narrow passage that separates the palisade and the nearest building to it. The inn, if you remember correctly. Or maybe the tavern. You always got the two confused, and tried to avoid them when possible. Alcohol may be one of the permitted sins of the Beloved, but a good angel would never dream of tasting so much as a drop.
You walk out into Latchky proper, timing your exit from the alley so that you don't look like you're slinking around the place. As usual, various groups of adventurers and workers mingle about, discussing whatever it is that's important to mortals. Probably things like food, and shelter, and how the Goddess would never abandon them for getting double-dicked in the line of duty. The bitches.
There are two "watering holes," as the locals call them. The tavern is the rowdier of the two, you remember now, as you watch a drunken halfling stagger out of the little wooden flappy things that pass for doors. A nest of women teetering on the edge of sin, of those who have gambled and lost. Not a bad place to start plying your new trade.
The inn, on the other hand, is the more reputable establishment. The owner, an elvish woman with lovely eyes, as you recall her, was swift in removing any untoward elements from her business. The place is relaxed, filled with hopeful adventurers ready to make it big, the proud just waiting for the fall.
There's also the church, if you can call it that. It's more like a priestly outreach, where a few lesser Priestesses offer minor holy services to those adventurers who need them. They spend a not-insignificant amount of time curing hangovers, but they have healed their fair share of lesser injuries. They can even remove poisons, which is a godsend for those who run afoul of the more aphrodisiac-oriented monster species.
You can't resist. Like a moth to a flame, or perhaps a lusty sinner faced with a rather nice cock, you find your feet guiding you to the church. The sound of conversation mostly dies out around you as the respectful quiet of religious contemplation takes its place.
You brush past the curtain that separates the small building from the outside, your wings catching a bit before you shrug them through. You remember petitioning the priestesses to make the doorway more angel-friendly, to no avail. You were there to serve them, after all, not the other way around.
Luckily for you, the first to lay eyes on you is Sister Sybil.
You liked Sybil. She was everything a priestess should be– kind, charitable, faithful. Now her presence fills you with other feelings entirely. Did she start wearing perfume? You can smell her from here, for fuck's sake. She smells positively delightful, sweet and succulent and ripe and…
You're forced to dismiss your cock before the building bulge pressing against your robes gives you away before the game has even begun. This is the first time you've ever felt anything quite like that. You'll have to be careful around priestesses from now on, you think. The really good ones, at least. You almost jumped her right then and there.
(Category Aspect Discovered!)
(Devils, as beings of temptation and sin, find the pure utterly irresistible. Spending more than an hour with the pure of heart and body gives the devil a compulsive urge to take them, and they take stacking penalties for every additional hour in their presence that is not spent trying to get in their pants.)
(On the flipside, successfully claiming the maidenhead of the pure of heart empowers the devil immensely, hastening her evolution.)
Sybil rushes to you, that delightful scent tickling your nose as her hair flutters behind her.
"Ariel!" Her voice, and face, are joyous, though you detect a hint of confusion marring her otherwise pristine features. She gently grasps your shoulders, looking you up and down.
"Are you alright?" She asks finally, failing to detect any outward sign of harm. "Lita said they lost track of you in the dungeon. I put forward a quest at the inn, but the only group to take it said they found no trace of you."
And so it begins. You'll need to convince her that you're still the Ariel she knew, the winged sucker who happily scraped for her Beloved masters at the behest of her careless Goddess.
"I was attacked." You say, tears budding at the corners of your eye as you look around, pretending to check for eavesdroppers. "Sybil… can you keep a secret?"
She looks at your face, her concern writ clear as day. Goddess, her voice is so cute when she's worried like that. Maybe you can play up your injuries later. If this doesn't blow up in your face, that is.
"I… that depends on the secret, Ariel." Is that suspicion you see now?
"We were attacked by a lamia. Lita and the others got away–" You tactfully neglect to mention that they ran like a bunch of miserable fucking cowards, "–but I didn't."
Her eyes widen with horrified realization and you stop her before she can say anything or call for the guards. "But I'm still me!" You look her dead in the eyes, the tears that you conjured earlier beginning to fall. Quite artful, if you do say so yourself.
"I know I've lost the favor of my Goddess, but I still want to help you. All of you." You gesture around widely. "I may not be able to return home, but I can still do my duty. And… maybe, one day…" Your voice quivers a little. "She'll welcome me back."
You can tell you've overplayed your part, a bit. She looks more uncomfortable than anything, and you can tell that, while she feels bad for you, she knows better than to trust a devil at her word.
"I…" She closes her eyes, thinking. "I want to believe you Ariel, I really do. But all the stories I have ever heard of those angels who fall…" She pauses, and gazes into your slightly tear-stained face for a long moment, then shakes her head.
"But you have shown me a great deal of trust." She sighs. "I will not report you just yet, Ariel. If you can show me that you really mean what you said just now, about still wanting to do your duty? Then I promise you I will help you."
That's about as well as you could hope for, you think. At least she didn't immediately sic the town on you. And hell, you've got something of an in with her. So long as you don't do anything outwardly devilish that gets back to her, you should be fine for a while.
(Sybil wants to believe you, but part of her knows better. You have a week to convince her of your sincerity. If you succeed, or corrupt her before time is up, you will remain in the clear. So long as you don't go spilling the beans to everyone else, that is.)
You smile at her, making sure that it looks a little sad. "I understand, Sybil. I'll find a way to prove to you I meant what I said." How, exactly, you're going to do that is a bit beyond you at the moment, with this delicious priestess distracting you.
If you stay around this walking bonfire of purity any longer you're likely to get burned one way or another. You're really thankful that the Corrupt Goddesses saw fit to let monstergirls dismiss their cocks. Your panties are absolutely dripping, but it's harder for her to see that than a tent in your robes.
"I'll be back, Sybil. I promise." You hope she didn't catch the true meaning behind your words. You'll be back for her, alright.
You leave the church and take a deep breath of nice, non-purity infused air. It's so much easier to think now that you're not faced with the sexual equivalent of a full-course meal before a starved orphan. It's a good thing most canine Beasts don't get along with the Beloved, or any who resided here would have been able to sniff out your arousal with ease.
So. Now you need to prove your sincerity to the purest priestess this side of the mountain, and you need to do it somewhat quickly, before her sense of duty outweighs her pity for what happened to you.
You can always just do what you used to do. Help out adventurers, scout the area, that sort of thing. You also have your Infernal Contracts to fall back on. Getting others to vouch that you aided them through magically enforced oaths may not be the most actually-sincere way of proving your word, but hey. You're a devil now. Deception is what you do.
Better to play it safe, you decide. If Sybil even suspects you of using devil magic, she'll blow the whistle for sure. Besides, endearing yourself to the rest of the flock can't hurt.
The inn is probably your best bet for finding an adventurer in need. This would probably entail joining them on some fool errand or other in the dungeon, and you can't help but recall how the last time you were down there went.
You could also hit up a worker or two to find out what needs doing locally. In the past, you were typically asked to scout out potential monster sightings or investigate a disappearance.
Local. Definitely local, you think, as a phantom mix of pleasure and pain shoots through your crotch at the thought of the dungeon. It only makes sense to do things where Sybil is more likely to see the results of your efforts, after all.
It's not hard to find a worker bitching about something or other. They tend to complain the loudest, you've found. Adventurers who piss and moan too often and too loudly tend to get left out of parties, or abandoned at the first opportunity.
This particular specimen is a dwarf. Red-haired, stout, huge tits and ass. Ever the stereotypical creatures, dwarves. You can't remember ever meeting one that didn't talk with that ridiculous accent endemic to their race, and you've been damn near everywhere on Gaea at one point or another.
This particular dwarf works at the tavern, as you recall. A cook, or barmaid. Or both. Probably both, knowing dwarves. Aina, her name was. Is. Same thing.
"–and they better damn well t'pay fer the damn shipment, or they won't be gettin' a damned drop o' drink from us!" You arrive just in time to hear the tail end of her ranting at an unfortunate go-between, who scampers off with her metaphorical tail between her legs.
Your wings cast a shadow over the dwarf as she watches the girl flee, causing her to turn, already spewing vitriol. "An' wha' the hell d'you want, y… oh." She blinks, apparently not expecting to see an angel. Well, it's not like you frequented the tavern before. "Can I help you, madam angel?"
You smile brightly, pearly whites shining like the pearly gates. "I do not believe so, Aina. But perhaps I can help you? I could not help but notice you seem to have a bit of trouble on your hands."
That's all it takes to get Aina spilling her guts to you like a… gutted fish. You'll think of a better metaphor later.
As it happens, a recent shipment of expensive alcohol has apparently disappeared en-route to Latchky from one of the dwarven cities. You're no expert, but you gather that this particular brew is to die for in Aina's opinion. Unfortunately, the local adventurers seem to disagree.
She and her wife, the tavernkeep, are now out a significant amount of money with nothing to show for it, and without good drink to bring in customers they've got no way to make it back.
It'd be a simple enough effort for you to scout out the path the shipment took. It's a bit out of the way from the normal road into the city, which makes you wonder why they fucking took it in the first place, but hey. You're no alcohol shipment expert. Or any kind of shipment expert, really.
"I can look for the shipment, Aina," you say, all sweetness. "It's not like it's the first time I've done something like this for Latchky."
She smiles up at you, nodding. "Aye, like when ye helped find Keri's brat when she wandered off. Damn near thought she'd been taken by a gnoll or somethin' worse. Good thing she jus' got herself lost."
"Indeed it was," you affirm. "Well then, if you'll excuse me, I have a shipment to find."
It's much easier to leave the outpost than it was to enter it. After all, no-one's watching for people leaving Latchky. At least, you don't think they are. You didn't hear anything about theft or something similar, so probably not. As a bonus, now that people can place you as having been in town recently, no-one will question you coming back.
(You may now freely enter or leave Latchky. Unless a certain someone's conscience gets the better of her, that is.)
Once you're clear of the settlement you spread your wings and soar, the very action mocking the mortals and their calloused feet. Forever shall they envy you and your ability to not have to walk on the hard ground with footwear that's made of wood and pigskin, or whatever the hell they make shoes out of.
Of course, you're probably going to have to land at some point. The path the shipment took was through the forest, meaning you're going to need to go to ground for any sort of visibility.
You'll deal with that particular bugbear when the time comes, however. For now, you've got the wind beneath your wings, and for the first time since you Fell you feel truly happy.
There. In the midst of your reverie, you catch the barest glint of something catching the light as the sun approaches its rest. Tucking in your wings, you spiral into a dive that sees you plunging through a gap in the canopy to alight on the ground near what you spotted.
It's a dagger. You're not an expert, but it's not been here long, if the light can still gleam off of it. It's definitely not monster-made. The only monsters around here that use weapons with any frequency are goblins, but the quality is too good, and it bears none of the hallmarks (well, quirks, really) of goblin gear. You've fought enough of the little green-skinned harlots to recognize that much.
By your reckoning, that means that this was dropped by someone associated with that missing shipment. A quick glance around confirms that it was probably lost in a struggle, judging by the divots in the ground. Divots that go deeper into the woods, as it happens. Maybe even to your prize. With a grin you snatch up the dagger (no reason to let it go to waste here) and stalk through the forest, following the path even as light fades.
(Dagger obtained! You get 2 attack and 1 damage with this weapon, should you choose to wield it.)
Nightfall turns out to be a blessing, as it happens. All angels can see in the dark. Most monsters too, in fact, which makes sense. They wouldn't be able to live in dungeons as well as they do if they couldn't, now could they?
But none of that really matters regardless, because the reason the dark turns out to be a blessing is that it allows your eyes to more easily spot the pinprick of light undulating through the trees. You move toward it, knowing full well that the tracks you followed here are leading you to the light regardless.
The sound of celebration reaches your ears first. Laughter, shouts, and something else…
Ah. A wet slapping noise you still dream about along with cries of unwilling pleasure are all you need to piece together this particular mystery. Well, most of it anyways. The most important part for sure. A group of monstergirls got the drop on the shipment, and are now making use of every piece of it they can. Like those people that you met in the plains a century or so back, who used all the parts of that big hairy animal when they killed it.
Just, y'know. Sexier.
The question is how you approach this particular problem. If you act now, however you do it, you'll save more of the shipment, and probably prevent a pregnancy or four. It'll be tough, but you've managed harder, and at least some of the celebrating monsters sound pretty drunk. You could probably sneak in and free a few of the captives to help you in a fight, or you might be able to convince the monsters to cooperate without having to resort to fists.
Alternatively, you can wait for them to party themselves out. There'll probably be a watch posted, but you're pretty sneaky. If you get the drop on them quick enough, you might be able to free the captives and grab whatever remains of the shipment, though it will certainly be diminished, and one or more of the girls will probably going to be popping out a monster brat in a week or two.
It'll look better if you save the booze victims before things get too far out of hand. Wrapping your wings tightly around you like a cloak, you maneuver into towards what you now know is a bonfire.
It turns out that while you were totally right about the dagger not being goblin make, it didn't mean that goblins weren't involved. A group of maybe ten or so of the little fuckers crowd a bonfire, wearing leather straps and loincloths that they presumably think counts as armor. Imbeciles. They're all merrily slaking their thirsts, both literal and sexually metaphorical.
You're close enough now that you can spot the captives. Five or so, three of whom are currently in the middle of a phalanx of goblin "spears," squealing in protest and ecstacy. Two are tied to a tree… on the other side of the fucking camp, because of course they would be.
You hear one of the goblins let out a cry of bliss as she empties her balls in the pussy of a remarkably busty elf. She moves up to smear her cock against the elf's lips as another greenskin moves up to enjoy her sloppy seconds. Or sloppy fifths, if the sheer amount of cum flowing out of her well-abused hole is any indication.
Better now than never. Taking advantage of the very distracting nature of the act the goblins are currently engaged in, you dart across the makeshift camp to free the unfucked prisoners.
You're like the wind, if the wind were an angel. Or… whatever. Metaphors are dumb mortal contrivances anyways. What is a metaphor but a lie that's not a lie? Oh, that was good. You'll have to remember it later. Maybe Sybil will like it.
You're interrupted from your daydream of Sybil rewarding your profound wisdoms by burying your cock in her ample bosom by a hurried whisper. "Oh thank the goddess! I thought we screwed."
Well, she almost was. You glance at the tied up-woman, whose long blonde hair sticks to her shoulders and breasts, slick with sweat. Presumably due to fearing her turn. Or maybe looking forward to it. Who knows?
Luckily, she hasn't been stripped of her armor yet. Goblins like to do that "in the act," so to speak. They think it's more exciting. Maybe you'll have to try for yourself one day. Her muscles tell you she's probably used to swinging a weapon, and a large one at that, but the goblins aren't stupid enough to leave such a toy anywhere within her reach.
With your brand new dagger you slice through her restraints with relative ease, and she nods towards the other captive. "Can you get her too? I can run distraction on the gobs if I have to."
"You shouldn't have to," you respond, keeping the ice out of your voice. 'Can you reach her,' bitch, did she see you sneak over here? "But if it looks like they're about to spot me, go ahead."
Can't hurt to hedge your bets, pride aside.
It's a close thing. One of the goblins decides to flip her captive over and take her other virginity, and she just so happens to need to turn in your direction to do so. You freeze, wings tense and ready for action, before the promise of a warm hole overwhelms her interest in what was probably just a trick of the light. Bonfires flicker around all the time, casting all sorts of weird shadows. It's probably nothing.
You free the next captive with minimal fuss. This one, if her outfit and musculature is any indication, is a monk. The meditating while her companions are getting filled with goblin meat is another hint.
She nods silently and opens her eyes as the ropes binding her fall to the ground. "I am ready, messenger of Heaven."
You inch closer as the goblin who almost spotted you presses her cockhead between the cheeks of a halfling who is currently making her displeasure very well known. You've got the element of surprise. Now all you need to do is use it.
You strike like a snake. A snake with wings, which is better by default than normal snakes, which may have two very large cocks and surprisingly smell pretty good but–
There's a loud clang as you slam the butt of the dagger against the temple of the would-be anal intruder. Her eyes roll up into the back of her head and she drops like a rock, her cock sliding down and between the halfling's cheeks in a way that kind of makes you jealous.
The rest of the goblins look at you stupidly before they start to gather their wits to strike you, giving you the chance for another blow.
Your next blow isn't as devastating, but still impressive. You stab out at the nearest goblin, causing her to yelp in pain as you sink it into the bare flesh just under her shoulder.
The other goblins rally and, realizing that their other captives are now free, spread out to engage you all.
Apparently still quite horny despite their sudden peril, they opt to try and grope you, smallish fingers grabbing at the fabric of your robes to expose your unmentionables to the world. From the curses behind you, the others are facing the same lewd onslaught.
You let out a very unladylike noise as one of the goblins manages to get a hand beneath your robe and between your cheeks, her nimble fingers immediately finding their up and into your moist passage, while her thumb just barely pokes into your ass. You're still a little off from being near Sybil earlier, and the sensation almost immediately sends you over the edge before you flap your wings and free yourself from the little vixen's grasp.
The warrior woman has a goblin on her back, who has managed to wriggle the taller woman's armor loose and is currently fondling her breasts.
The monk glides between the goblins like a leaf in the breeze, much to their frustration.
The warrior lashes out with a fury, grabbing the goblin on her back and smacking her into her nearest fellow.
The monk is apparently more focused on dodging than actually dealing damage, and fails to do anything.
You feint a slash with your now-bloody dagger at the wretch who just made you feel really good dared to touch you, then kick her back towards the bonfire when she moves to block. There's a shout of panic as she rolls out, patting herself furiously to put out her now aflame straps.
The diminished horde continues their attempts to bring your group down sexually, but their spirit is obviously not as in it at this point.
The goblins can't seem to work up the balls to approach you after you kicked their fellow into a firepit.
The warrior currently has a goblin humping her rear, who is muttering "gonnacumgonnacumgonnacum" over and over.
The monk pays for her earlier success as a lucky goblin catches her foot and sends her toppling, before diving face-first between her legs. If the surprised squeal is any indication, the sudden cunnilingus has quite the effect on the martial artist.
The warrior has had quite enough of these shenanigans and slams her ass against a tree, knocking out the poor goblin before she can climax.
The monk, her cheeks positively crimson with arousal and embarrassment, clenches her thighs around her assailant's skull. After a bit of flailing, the goblin goes still.
The rest of the goblins fall into a panic, making them easy prey for you and the others. The gangbanged girls even get up and add a few mean kicks for good measure.
Combat is ended, and you've come out on top. Instinctually, you feel an urge to pick up the nearest goblin and spear her on your cock, but you repress the desire. Not in front of the mortals.
After a bit of cleanup and accounting, you think you've got just about everything in order. The goblins are all tied up and left to the wilds, meaning some enterprising monster or another is about to enjoy a little karmic windfall.
Some of the booze is gone, but enough of it remains that the warrior, who tells you her name is Merin, is confident that Aina won't be too upset. The party thanks you and offers to walk with you back to Latchky.
You could take their offer, and head home immediately for a pat on the head and a "Job well done!"
Or you could fib that you've got something to take care of, and then circle back around to teach a goblin or two what happens to losers.
You decide to go with the group. You never know what might sneak up on you while you're distracted, as these goblins just learned.
"…anyways, that's why we decided to take this route instead of the main road. Not that it worked out in the end, I guess." Merin finishes her riveting tale just as you reach the road proper, having wisely decided to avoid going back to what you are now tentatively calling Goblin Trail.
"It's not like it's the first time we've been had by a monster," the elf, whose name you learned was Evara, notes. "You don't really get used to it, but it's never as bad as the first time." You'll have to take her word for it. You've only had it happen the once, so far.
She leans up rather well, incidentally. You could almost forget she was absolutely drenched in goblin semen a little over an hour or two ago.
A tap at the side of your hip draws your attention, and you glance down at Fi the halfling. "Thanks for the save there, by the way. I've already lost my hymen, and something tells me taking it in the ass is a whole other thing entirely." She's right. Well, you only ever took it in both holes, actually, so maybe just taking it in the ass isn't quite as bad.
Ju the monk is currently speaking with the final woman of the group, this one another human. She's got some massive tits to her, and you've yet to catch her name. From the hand on her back and the reassurances you can overhear, you gather that not all of the party has had this sort of encounter before, despite Evara's claim.
It isn't long before you find a good spot to camp, close enough to the road that most monsters aren't going to try anything. You can take this opportunity to get closer to one of the group, or simply take the chance for a nice rest.
Ever the glutton, you decide to try and get to know the three most well-endowed members of the party. Your opportunity comes when Ju and Fi split off to chat, or take watch, or whatever it is they were going to do. It's a bit hard to focus with those enormous breasts the bluenette is sporting in sight. They're practically spilling out of her robes at this point. From what you gather the goblins actually stretched the front of the robes a bit in their eagerness to get at her breasts. You can definitely empathize.
You sit next to her, just far enough that you're not quite touching. Evara sits opposite you, and Merin takes the other side of the unnamed girl.
"You feeling better, Liane?" Not unnamed for long, it seems. Merin's voice is softer than you've heard from her so far, her concern for the other girl obvious.
"'ᵐᶠᶦⁿᵉ." The response is just barely above a whisper. "ᴵ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᶦᵗ." She glances guiltily at Evara, who you know (from peaking at her earlier) is still dripping goblin cum.
The elf waves a hand. "Don't worry about it, hon. I've had worse." This doesn't seem to alleviate Liane's guilt at all, if you're any judge, but she does not protest.
"What about you, Ariel? I saw one of those bitches grab you pretty good from behind during the fight." Merin's concern is still present in her voice, but it's not as pronounced as it was with Liane. Either she knows you're probably fine and is just asking to be polite, or she's just more concerned about Liane than you.
"It was just a touch. Not nearly enough to make an angel fall." You reassure her. It's not even a lie. If simple pokes like that could deflower an angel, a hell of a lot more of your erstwhile sisters would be in your exact same situation.
You have the opportunity to stir up conversation and get these three to like you more. One avenue is to continue trying to reassure Liane. It's obvious she's still bothered by what happened, and you get the feeling it's not just the fact that she was the unwilling giver of a half-dozen titjobs. With how the others treat her, you feel like getting Liane to open up is the most surefire way to get the other two to like you.
You could also prod Evara for stories about her adventuring days. You get the feeling she's not exaggerating when she says that she's had worse, and elves live long and get around. You might even learn a thing or two about monsters that you don't already know.
Finally, you can speak with Merin about her plans for the future. You gather she's the leader of this little ensemble, and as such wherever she leads, they follow. Knowing their path in the future could be helpful if you ever need to call in a favor.
You gleefully abuse your divine status in the eyes of mortals and place your arm around Liane's shoulders, bring her in to a slightly awkward side hug. You bring her close, pressing your breasts against her own, and gently rub her back.
"It's alright, Liane. I know it's not just the goblins that's got you upset, but you don't have to just sit there and endure it," you whisper softly into her ear as you run your hand in rhythmic circles on her back. "You can tell me all about whatever is bothering you. The Goddess put me on this world so that I can help you, Liane. Let me help you."
That's all it takes, really. Like a dam that's been waiting to burst, Liane breaks down. Between sobs and blubbering, you manage to make out the gist of the problem.
Merin neglected to mention that it was Liane who chose their route, who insisted that it was the best way for them to take. There had been minimal argument– as a scholar and mage, Liane is arguably the most intelligent of her group. The others took her choice, and they paid the price for it.
Worse, this was her first real job as an adventurer, and she fucked it up six ways to Sunday. Not only did her routing get half of her companions raped, but she panicked when the goblins attacked and was effectively useless. Had she kept her wits about her, they might have made it through the ambush a little beaten, but otherwise alright.
Finally, Liane didn't actually lose her chastity in the gangbang. The goblins were so enamored with her chest that it was all they really focused on, meaning that, in her mind, she suffered the least when it was her fault that they were in that situation to begin with. There's a very real chance that Evara and/or Fi are pregnant, as well.
It's an affair that lasts for a good half hour, as you, Evara, and Merin reassure the young woman that she is not, in fact, "the stupidest mage to ever graduate the academies," and other such self-deprecations. Evara and Merin start to cry and apologize as well, which catches the attention of the other two, and now everyone is crying and hugging and you have to participate now or you look like a bitch.
When all is said and done, however, the party is practically glowing. While before they looked somewhat beaten and uncertain, they now look… well, still a bit beaten up, but confident and assured of their bond as well. The party as a whole looks at you with gratitude, as your divine insight allowed you to open the heart of their suffering companion.
You're fairly certain that Liane is looking at you a bit differently than the others too. She can barely hold your gaze for more than a couple of seconds, her cheeks flushing as she turns away whenever you try to meet her eyes. You can feel her peaking at you when she thinks you're not looking, and she's scribbling like mad in that little notebook of hers.
You stole a peak once. She's not a bad artist, honestly. That sketch of you is surprisingly on point, but you're fairly certain you haven't glowed like that since the day you Fell.
(Your silver tongue has earned you a place in the hearts of the entire party. Each of them trusts you, and Liane obviously has a crush. Once word gets back to Sybil of what you just did, she'll be quite convinced of your angelic nature.)
